Middle School, Bomber Jackets, and Young Love
by Midori Hara
Summary: What happens to Alfred and a drunken Arthur after a spell gone wrong? Middle school, that's what! Real names and country names used, rated T for cussing.
1. The Maddness Begins!

_**Hey guys! Thanks for choosing to read my newest story! ^^ *bows respectfully***_

_**I really hope you guys like! **_

**_-Jen_**

* * *

He ate when he talked. He was oblivious to the atmosphere of a conversation. He was annoying. Yet Arthur loved him.

~.~.~

Alfred was giving Arthur the usual migraine with his nonstop rambling on and on about his idiotic ideas to stop Global Warming. None of the other nations particularly cared, which wasn't unusual at the G8 meetings. Arthur was trying to decide which was better than having to sit through this stupid meeting; getting molested by Francis, or becoming one with Ivan.

The energetic American finally finished his speech, and got down from his stand on the conference table, grinning triumphantly.

Ludwig stood up after his fellow nation's speech had ended. He rubbed the bridge of his nose, sighing. "Does anyone _else_ have any plans?"

The entire room was silent. If a pin would have dropped, you would have heard it loud and clear.

The German sighed yet again, "This meeting is adjourned! Now everyone, GO HOME!"

Quicker than that, half the nations were out the door.

After they were dismissed, though many had left, nearly half of the countries were still lingering about. Francis and Antonio were locked in conversation, while the Frenchman was undoing the Spaniard's shirt buttons; to this, Antonio was oblivious, however. Romano was watching furiously from a distance, his face nearly vivid red, flashing the two a death glare almost as if saying 'Get the fuck away from him or you will die a painful death in your sleep!'

While Arthur was erasing the chalkboards, he wondered whether or not Alfred's head was filled with all the hamburgers he gouged down every day or more.

With the final swipe of the eraser, Arthur nearly jumped out of his skin when a hand was suddenly slapped on his shoulder.

"Iggy!"

_Great. Alfred…_ He stiffened, and gave Alfred an over-the-shoulder cold hard glare. "What the bloody hell do you want?"

"Well! I was wonderin' if you wanted to come to the party I was having at my house tonight!"

"Why would _I_ go to a party at _your_ house?"

"'Cause it'll be funnnn~!" Alfred whined.

Sighing, the Brit turned around to be looking up into the face of Alfred's signature pout. It was completely irresistible to whoever it was focused toward, and it made Arthur's heart melt— no, wait! Scratch that!

"Fine, you git, I'll go to your stupid party…"

"YAHOO!! Thanks Iggy! You won't regret this!" Alfred shouted happily, giving the older nation a sudden bear hug.

"Let go of me!" Arthur growled. Alfred released him, and scratched his head in embarrassment.

"Sorry!" he apologized, "you were just _asking_ for a hug!"

"_Don't _push your luck, Yankee."

~.~.~

The sound of thumping stereos and laughter could be heard from inside the American's home. Arthur stood outside the front door; his heart pounding in his chest, debating if going inside would be the best choice. He could just turn back and go home now, have a nice cup to Earl Grey and enjoy the rest of the night with an enjoyable book. But he was already here. His gut was saying to not go in, but his gut was often wrong. The Briton rang the doorbell, which, over all the excess noise, could still be heard. In a matter of seconds, the door was flung open by an enthusiastic Alfred. A dazzling grin lit up his face when he saw his older brother nation. "Iggy! You came!"

"Of course I came, you git. Now let me in. It's freezing out here and—" And much to his surprise, Arthur was taken by the wrist and was dragged inside.

The heavy metal rock music thumped painfully in his ears. Though he should have been used to it, it was something he hadn't experienced in a matter of decades. The colorful strobe lights rolled over the crowd, and a band was playing up on a makeshift stage. Alfred had somehow disappeared to somewhere. _That git! He left me all alone! _Arthur thought.

Through the dozens of humans in the room, Arthur maneuvered himself around, trying to find a safe area to sit down, but to no avail. He passed a table with packs of several brands of alcohol, as well as normal party snacks. The sight of the alcohol called to him. _No!_ He thought, _No alcohol! You'll get drunk, and god knows what would bloody happen!_

Arthur eyed the drinks, ignored his conscience and picked up several of the beverages. He made his way back through the energetic crowd to Alfred's bedroom, passing couples making out in the hallways, and single guys sitting alone in a corner or against a wall, drinking their heart's sorrows away.

The English nation closed the door to Alfred's bedroom and collapsed onto the bed, drinks still in hand. After nearly drinking all of them, and the feeling of the alcohol taking effect, Arthur passed out.

~.~.~

Arthur awoke to near silence. What time was it? It was pitch black, except for light that seeped in through the crack between the door and the floor. His head was pounding, and even the smallest creak of the bed as he shifted about was deafening. Bloody hell. He was drunk.

The sound of approaching, familiar laughter met his ears.

Arthur rolled over onto his stomach, which probably wasn't the brightest idea. As soon as he did so, a feeling of impending nausea overcame him.

Hopefully Alfred wouldn't mind.

The door opened, the sudden flood of light nearly blinding the drunken Brit, then closed. It was obviously Alfred who had come in, but even an airhead like his ex-colony would have easily seen a drunken man lying on his bed.

The Brit lay as still as possible. There was the distinct sound of movement, and footsteps got closer and closer to him before he was nearly crushed by the full weight of an unsuspecting American almost about to fall down wearily on his bed on top of Arthur. Arthur quickly shot off the bed. "What the bloody hell are you trying to do?! Crush me?!"

"Who's there?!" Alfred leaped off the bed as well, a tremble in his voice.

"It's me, you fucking git!"

"Iggy?! Oh man! You gave me a heart attack! You're still here?"

"Of course I am! I wouldn't be standing here if I wasn't!"

"What are you still doing here?"

"I passed out on your fucking bed!"

Arthur's temper easily got out of hand when he was drunk. He knew from experience that he did horribly stupid things. Things so mentally scarring, he had a tattoo on his right hip to prove it. Currently, his anger was raging beyond a measure he himself would call horrifying.

"You're such a bloody git, Alfred!" Arthur growled, "It's all your damn fault we argue so much! If you wouldn't have left me, things would be _so_ much different!" Though the room was nearly completely dark, Arthur's face was redder than one of Antonio's tomatoes.

Foreign words escaped the Englishman's drunken lips. Using a spell when he was drunk? That had to be the stupidest idea in the book when it came down to it. He didn't know how it would result, but he couldn't stop himself. Only moments before the spell took effect did he realize which one he had used.

"Bloody hell—"

There was an explosion that shook the room, and smoke blinded the two nations as they both fell, unconscious, to the floor beneath their feet.

* * *

So whadd'ya guys think? I really put a lot of effort into writing the crack first chapter ^^; Please rate and tell me what you think! I'll only post up a new chapter if you guys really liked it!!!!!!

**_Awesomesauce people rate and review. Are YOU awesomesauce?_**


	2. Party's over boys

**Here, I introduce to you, CHAPTER 2!!!**

**I was so surprised when the day after I posted up the first chapter that I must have had at least 20 messages in my inbox about this story! I started sqealing and nearly started crying I was so happy people loved it that much! **

**_THANKS SO MUCH GUYS FOR ALL THE EPICLY AWESOME REVIEWS! TTwTT It means so much!_**

* * *

As the smoke cleared, two seeming lifeless bodies lay on the floor. The explosion had rendered both unconscious. The siren of police cars were now blaring outside the house, and the sounds of doors being kicked down could be heard from the bedroom.

Arthur painfully opened his eyes. Everything was a blur; the room was spinning, but could still vaguely see the flashing of the blue and red lights of the police vehicles, and hear the sirens outside. _Th…The police? Crap…_

His body hurt all over. His bones felt like they were on fire, and his head felt as if it were going to explode from some kind of pressure. The light was few, and his vision was still blurred, but he could make out the shape of Alfred lying on the floor a meter or so away from him.

Arthur tried to sit up, coughing harshly on the remnants of the smoke in the room. His clothes felt looser than normal on himself, but ignored the fact. He needed to know if Alfred was alright.

Stomping feet were approaching the room. Arthur froze. He remembered the spell he had performed under the influence of alcohol earlier that night. _Did the spell actually do anything?_ He thought, attempting to crawl over to Alfred, but falling over the extra long sleeves of his shirt.

The door was abruptly slammed open, hallway light flooded the room, and a few policemen stood, armed, in the doorway, looking down at the two nations on the floor. Arthur could hear one of the men whispering to another, but couldn't form any words out of the mess of sound. The wailing of the sirens finally ceased as one of the police officers walked over to Alfred, and shook his shoulder as if effortlessly trying to wake up the American. Another walked over to Arthur, knelt down, and took a good look at him.

Being stared at, however, was not Arthur's favorite thing, and he glared back at the man. "Why are you staring at me?" his voice barely made out. He sounded hoarse, and his voice, higher pitched? Just by a little, though; but still enough to catch the Briton's attention.

At the same time, Alfred made a small groan. The man observing him noticed this. "Hey, kid, you okay? Are you hurt?"

"Hunh… what? Who're you..?" He mumbled, oblivious to anything different. Arthur however, did notice. Alfred's voice as well did sound a little higher pitched._ No…_ he thought. _No, no, no, no, NO! It couldn't have-!_

Alfred sat up, and Arthur gasped, his fears being realized. The spell had actually worked, but not in the way Arthur thought it would. _No. No! The spell backfired! It hit the both of us! FUCK! _

The American looked as if he was thirteen, instead of nineteen. His clothes were much bigger on him than they should've been, and he looked as confused as an intoxicated mouse in a complex maze. Texas was slipping off Alfred's nose, and he blinked a few times before taking in his surroundings. He scanned the room, his eyes freezing on Arthur. His bright blue eyes widening at the sight of his older brother nation, "Iggy…?"

"Iggy?" One or two of the officers repeated, looking at each other quizzically.

Arthur, lying on the floor after his slight "fall", sat back up, turned to the officer nearest to him, and asked politely if they could have a minute alone. The Policemen were considerate, and gave them their space.

"Iggy…?" Alfred repeated his eyes still locked on the Brit. "What… happened to you? You look really young! I mean, _really_ young!"

"I figured," Arthur started, finding the right words that wouldn't _offend_ Alfred, "Well, it is all _YOUR_ fault! You told me that I wouldn't regret coming to this party of yours! Oh, but look here! I got drunk out of my bloody wits and it's all because you had disappeared on me and left me all to my lonesome! Then you nearly crushed me, and set off my damn temper! Now look at us! We look like young teenagers because I was drunk and that spell backfired because I was intoxicated! Thanks a lot, Alfred! Thanks a whole god damn lot!"

"So everything's MY fault?! It's always my fault! You don't wanna take the blame on yourself so you blame it on me, is that right?!" The American shot back, only now noticing the change in his voice. "…So, uh," he paused, "How old would you say I look…?"

"Roughly thirteen, maybe fourteen? Me?"

"Hm? I'd say fourteen at oldest."

Silence was between the two of them for quite a time. Neither one said a word, or made a single sound. Arthur decided it was time to take action and do something about this. But first he would make his way to the nearest mirror.

He stood, but wobbled on unsteady legs, and made his way over to the door, which he opened and walked straight past the officers waiting outside the room to the bathroom.

He stared at his gloomy reflection in the mirror. He looked like he had been though hell and back. His hair was an utter mess (not like it was ever neat), his clothes were fairly large on him, and his sleeves extended at least an inch past his fingertips. His eyes were tired, and his face was pale. It was probably the alcohol still in his system, but he was nauseous as well.

One of the officers knocked on the door to the bathroom, and asked if he could enter. Upon Arthur saying 'yes', the officer entered and began to explain why they were there. He said that one of the neighbors had heard what sounded like a large explosion and was sure that someone was hurt. Another had complained that the music was too loud, but as they were calling, the music had ceased and the neighbor was content again with the silence. But, upon the discovery of alcohol, the officers said they had the right to arrest the two of them if they failed the breath analyzer test.

So the men called the two nations out into the hallway, and tested them for intoxication. Alfred passed, and Arthur passed just barely. He knew how to cheat the system after all the years he'd been around…

The policemen told them to be careful if there actually had been an explosion, said a polite "Good night", and left the house about a half hour after they arrived.

After the front door slammed shut, Arthur was tempted to get the quickest flight home to find the spell to reverse this, but his gut again said not to. This time, he listened. In the end, he would regret it.

The two glanced at each other in silence, then looked away as quick as they could. _This was turning out to be just brilliant! First I get drunk, then this! I'm starting to regret ever coming to this damn party. _Arthur thought. He recalled Alfred telling him that he _wouldn't_ regret coming to the party. Oh the irony!

The American's voice broke the silence, "So… what now?"

In truth, Arthur had no answer to that. What _were_ they supposed to do now? Get a flight back to his house to get a reverse spell? No. There was a high chance of encountering another nation on the trip. In this state, Arthur did **NOT** want to be taken advantage of by that bloody frog, Francis. (Which he knew would happen if this wasn't fixed soon!)

"We need to call someone; anyone who can swear to not utter a word about this to anyone else… but, who?" Arthur said, putting a hand to his chin in thought. He knew the majority of the other countries would definitely try to take advantage of their younger state, trying to claim them as territories or such.

After what looked like serious thought from Alfred, he shouted, "I got it!" and ran to the phone, quickly dialing in a number. He held the phone to his ear. Arthur was soon next to him, his ear pressed against the phone to hear as well.

_Ringggg Ringggg…_

_Ringggg Ringggg…_

_"Hello?"_ A small, and very tired, quiet voice answered the phone. The Briton knew it too well.

"Mattie!"

_"W-Who is this? How'd you get my number?"_

"What? Mattie, it's me! It's Alfred!"

_"Al? What happened to your voice? It's not like you at all-"_

"I'll explain another time, okay? Can you come over?"

_"Eh? But it's… Four in the morning! Can't you wait?"_

"Uh… well…" Alfred turned to Arthur, gazed at him quizzically before the Brit sighed, slowly nodded, and Alfred turned his attention back on the phone. "Yeah, I guess we could."

_"We?"_

"Yeah! Me and Iggy!"

_"Arthur's there too? Can you give him the phone?"_ Before Matthew even needed to say more, Arthur took the phone. "Hello? Matthew?"

_"Arthur? Okay, what's going on here? Your voice is all weird too! Are you guys okay?"_

"We can explain when you get here tomorrow," Arthur sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose, "Just, please, do come. And quickly."

* * *

**_Yes, yes. Canada will be in the next chapter! ^^_**

**_Alfred: Who?_**

**_Arthur: YOUR BROTHER YOU GIT!_**

**_Alfred: Oh yeahhhhhhhh..._**

**_Arthur and me: *FACEPALM*_**

_**Okay, basically a summary:**_

_**Arthur used a spell that would make them younger. Preferably teenagers, YOUNG teens. Since he was drunk, it hit both of them. Etc., Etc., I don't wanna spoil it if you're one who just skips to the bottom and hopes for the author to tell all about the chapter~ ^^**_

_**I originally planned the story to be kindergarden, but that posed too many issues ^^; So Middle school it was then!**_

_**I apologize for getting this out so late! I was originally planning to post it up every 2 weeks, (giving me enough time to write a new chapter in two weeks time), but I'm having a writers block issue on chapter 3, and I can't get what I want to say out in the right way. Get what I mean? *sigh* I'll try to finish chapter 3 as soon as possible to start chapter 4!**_

_**Awesomesauce people rate and review. Are YOU awesomesauce?**_


	3. Sorry to break it to you

Matthew Williams wasn't very fond of being woken up in the early reaches of the morning by his cell phone blaring the American national anthem in his ear. Even though he knew who was calling, his mind wasn't quite awake yet. Not until he had his breakfast did his brain actually start to work correctly.

He reached over and felt around the side table for his glasses. When his fingers made contact with the thin, steel-framed lenses, he put them on and picked up his cell phone. He flipped it open and pressed it to his ear.

"Hello?"

_"Mattie!"_

The Canadian nation froze. He knew it was his brother who had called, but whoever on the other end of this line was certainly not Alfred. His annoying brother's voice was much different than whoever had called Matthew. "W-Who is this? How'd you get my number?"

_"What? Mattie, it's me! It's Alfred!"_

"Al? What happened to your voice? It's not like you at all-"

_"I'll explain another time, okay? Can you come over?"_

* * *

_The rest of the night; I just have to endure the rest of the night before Matthew comes over to help. _Arthur thought reassuringly as he prepared himself a bed on the plush leather couch in Alfred's living room. Sleeping on the couch wasn't his first plan, but he didn't want to resort to sharing a bed with his ex-colony. No way. Not_ yet._

He draped blankets over the cushions and smoothed them out, placing two pillows perfectly at the one end of the couch. _The couch was a good resort._ Arthur thought. Though he hadn't slept on one in a while, and didn't know how he'd feel afterwards, he was going to spend the rest of the night – or by this time it was five in the morning- on a couch in the cold living room. _I guess asking Alfred to share his bed would be useless now that I made the makeshift bed here…_

Arthur and Alfred had both changed into clothes that would be a bit more suited to their new size. Everything else that the American owned was too big to even be called clothes. Arthur rejected the idea of wearing an oversized t-shirt with the Batman logo on the front when Alfred had offered. So the Briton stayed in his oversized shirt and boxers until he could either get new, smaller clothes, or get back to his house and reverse the spell; The spell which was staring to irritate him very much.

Alfred, at this point, was nearly in shock, but equivalently amazed. He never thought the Briton's spells actually worked, and had believed them to be a big bunch of phooey. But upon seeing himself in the mirror, he completely erased all doubts.

Upon slipping under the covers, Arthur was about to close his eyes and fall fast asleep. Hoping that when he woke up this would have just been a big, insane nightmare. He did so, and slipped into a peaceful unconsciousness.

* * *

A few hours of sleep was better than none. Arthur rolled over in his makeshift couch bed to escape the rays of sunlight seeping through the window shades. Birds were chirping outside, and he wished they'd shut the hell up.

To add to the morning bother, Alfred soon came thundering down the stairs, jumping down the last few, and coming to a stumbling halt a near foot from the front door. What a hell of a wakeup call.

Arthur hadn't noticed it before, aside from the birds' singing that caused the Island nation a morning headache, the doorbell had been ringing frantically and repetitively for the past couple of minutes. _Probably Matthew come to save me from this bleeding hell of a morning…_ Arthur thought before turning away from the sunlight and tugging the blankets up closer to his head.

Alfred peered out through the door's peephole, and quickly after opening said door, let his shocked younger brother hesitate inside. Matthew carried his pet polar bear, Kumajiro, snugly in his arms, and looked as if he'd just ran out of bed, put clothes on, and rushed out the door. The Canadian wore a red hoodie with a white maple leaf on the back, distressed blue jeans, and a pair of worn black and white sneakers.

"A-Al… what happened?" he said, examining his older brother (who was now much shorter than he himself was). "Did you get on Arthur's bad side again?"

"Who?" came Kumajiro's tiny voice.

"_**Don't**_you even start!" the Canadian nation scolded, pointing an accusing finger at the polar bear in his arms.

Alfred, who was slightly amused by the argument between nation and polar bear, rubbed the back of his neck in a rather embarrassed manner, "Ahahaha… yeah. But I don't even know what I did this time!" he chuckled.

Matthew sighed in his calm, quiet tone. "Where's Arthur then?"

"Over there on the couch!" the American gestured over his shoulder with this thumb at the couch occupied by England, before disappearing into the kitchen without another word. Breakfast would surely shush his growling stomach.

Matthew peeked into the den, and slowly walked over to the couch where Arthur laid buried under the blankets. He set Kumajiro down onto the mound on the couch. "Kumahijo(1), wake England up would you?" At the command, the small polar bear began to trump to where the mess of blond hair that could be defined as Arthur's head met the soft cotton of the pillow sheets, took a mouthful of the Britons hair, and began to tug harshly at it.

It didn't take long for an extremely angered Arthur to wake.

"Thank you very much for that pet of yours nearly tearing out a chunk of my hair," Arthur said sarcastically, rubbing at his temples. "I would assume you're confused to as the reason the git and I look this way."

Matthew nodded.

"I'll explain…"

* * *

By the time Arthur had completely finished telling the Canadian about the whole ordeal, Matthew stared at his brother and the Briton in shock and disbelief. He opened his mouth as if to speak, but changed his mind and closed it. This cycle repeated several times in the couple minutes of silence that hung between all of them. The doorbell rang loudly to shatter the hard silence.

Matthew turned a head to his brother, "Were you expecting anyone today, Al?" When the American shook his head in a 'No', an extremely unwanted and bothersome voice chimed from outside the door.

"Like, is anyone hoooooome? Hellooo~?"

_Oh god, not Felix…_ the three thought systematically, while stress lines and gloominess arose in the den.

"Wh-what do we do?" Matthew hissed, pulling Kumajiro even closer to his chest.

Arthur glanced to the door, "I guess we don't have any choice… Felix is an airhead enough (and even more of a twit than Alfred), and I don't think he would notice any similarities between our normal selves and us now. Just let him in and get it over with…"

Matthew nodded, and walked over to the door.

Alfred leaned over to Arthur, "I'm not so much of an airhead not to hear what you're saying from less than two feet away y'know Iggy."

"Oh, belt up."

"Hello Felix, what're you doing her-"

"Like, have you seen Alfred? We totally like, need to talk. Right now." The Polish nation paraded into the house, past a hesitant Matthew, and into the den; only pausing when his eyes stopped on Alfred and Arthur sitting on the couch. "Oh-em-gee! I didn't know you had like, totally the most adorable kids over!"

"Uhhhh...." was the only intelligent answer that forced its way past Matthew's lips.

"We came by to see Mr. Alfred, but he isn't here..." Arthur quickly stated, giving Matthew a "you've-got-to-be-kidding-me" look.

"Like, no way! I totally had something really important to ask him!" Felix groaned, "But his brother's here, so I can just, like, ask you."

Alfred was slightly glad that he wasn't in his normal body right now; else he'd have to deal with Poland's "important" question. Instead of listening to Poland's speech about how he needed advice on what shade of pink he should paint his house, he glanced over at Arthur. Who looked utterly pissed off.

"Yo, Arthur, why you look so pissed?" Alfred muttered low enough that only Arthur could hear him. All he received was one of the worst glares he had received from the Brit yet. Seriously, if looks could kill, he would have been dead, reincarnated, disemboweled, decapitated, and had his barely alive corpse dragged through thorn bushes at this point. And yet, he still felt the need to stick his neck out more.

"Iggy? Did you hear me?"

And the Briton snapped.

He dragged Alfred as far from Poland's earshot as he could and snapped "DONT CALL ME THAT! And I look pissed because I _am_ pissed! Don't kill my language with your terrible American accent, and _please_ just leave me alone!"

Upon returning from the dark corner Arthur had dragged them both into, Matthew was trying with all his efforts to get Felix out of the house.

"Hey…err… would you _please_ mind leaving, Felix?" the Canadian managed out, trying to wave the Polish man away.

"Right, right," Felix ignored Matthew and examined Alfred and Arthur. "Anyways, like, why aren't those kids in school? And they're, like, totally in your brother's house! What's up with that?"

_School? _The three exchanged worried glances. All of the nations went to school at some point in their existence, but not a _human _school.

Oh, this week was gonna be rough.

* * *

**Yup! Another chapter! **

**YES, Endure the annoying that is Poland! (I bet I'm gonna get some snarks from adding him in... ^^; BUT HE'S FOR COMIC RELIEF! HONEST!)**

**Again, I apologize much for the timespan I'm posting these up at! D'x I decided to post a new chapter up on a Saturday every 3 weeks. But that will eventually change I swear! Please bear with me and my suffering from writer's block till then! *bows respectfully***

**THANK YOU, THANK YOU, THANK YOU to my beta/awesomesauce oneesan for helping me write some of this chapter! YOU ARE AWESOME NICOLE! ILY! I owe ya!**

**And thank you to all that reviewed and faved! IT MEANS A LOT! =D**

**_Awesomesauce people rate and review... are YOU awesomesauce?_**


	4. Why not to trust Poland

"Matthew… you have no idea how much I hate you right now." Arthur hissed to the Canadian, who just smiled in an embarrassed manner. There the three nations sat. In the principal's office of a school Arthur and Alfred had just been enrolled into. "You shouldn't have let Felix in! Everything would have been fine if you had just ignored me,_ and_ the doorbell!"

"If I did, he would have _never _gone away!" Matthew hissed back.

"Good lord, thanks to our dear, annoying Felix, we're now getting enrolled into a bloody _human_ school!" the Briton spat, keeping his tone low. He wasn't pleased with his current predicament, and how events had played out in earlier hours. Alfred sat on the other side of Arthur, smugly wearing his bomber jacket; that, to the Briton's amazement, still fit perfectly. For once, Arthur swore that his former colony, being his usual cheery self, was displeased with the situation as well and a slight frown was presented on his lips, until he noticed Arthur staring and quickly put on a big, goofy grin.

"You're enjoying this, aren't you, git?"

"No, but it might be fun! Ya never know!" there the plastered-on grin remained, Alfred's expression beaming, and the feeling of Arthur's very soul melting at the sight of it— again, scratch that out! (Or else a very angered country will send Ivan after me with bloody, lead faucet pipe clutched in hand!)

The secretary sitting at the large, wooden desk, eyed the three wearily from time to time before returning her attention to her computer screen where her fingers sleekly tapped the keys on the thin keyboard. Her phone rang suddenly, and she picked it up, giving a quick "Hello" and then "Okay, sure thing." Before she dropped it back onto the receiver.

"The principal will see you now."

* * *

**Earlier that day…**

Arthur had never so much hatred for a pastime before. No, he didn't care for baseball, the wannabe cricket sport, but he didn't hate it. Hell, he didn't hate the cross-dressing Felix was so into! Not that you'd ever catch _him_ doing that. And he didn't mind shopping. He rather enjoyed it. However, shopping under _these_ conditions filled him with resent.

He was clothes shopping. With _Poland_. In a 13 year old boy's body. For clothes to wear to a school he was being forced to go to.

The initials "FML" had never fit so well before. And as if the universe hadn't hated him enough, he had to be shopping with Alfred, of all people.

This was going to be a _wonderful_ shopping day.

"Okay, like, where do you guys want to go first?" Felix inquired as he stood in front of the layout of the mall.

"Home." Arthur groaned.

Alfred scoffed, "For once I agree with you, but we need to get you some non-stuffy clothes, old man."

"I'm not old!" Arthur shot back; actually being right for once.

"Lol, like Mattie, don't they totally fight like America and England?" Felix noted, grinning stupidly, "That's like, totally funny."

Matthew merely nodded, not yet used to being acknowledged by such an… exuberant nation.

Arthur read the list of stores, one or two catching his eye, while listening to the (now taller) nations speak behind him.

"Their arguing is, like, totally U-S-T, don't you think Mattie?" Felix giggled, suddenly dragging the other three down the hallway.

"U-Uhmmm… I guess? Wh-What's UST?" the tallest dark blonde nation asked.

"Man, it's like, Unresolved Sexual Tension. They totally want in each other's pants." Poland said seriously.

Arthur coughed, absolutely mortified. This was what the other nations thought about him? No, it was probably only Felix, judging from the blush on Matthew's face. The mere thought of the other countries thinking that made him burst into laughter; which earned him a few odd stares from more than just the three with him. Especially from Alfred.

"…Like, anyways…" Poland drawled, "We're going to Hot Topic first."

Alfred made a face resembling nervousness. That was never a good sign. Wondering what kind of store they were heading too, Arthur wandered along beside Alfred.

"Dude, Iggy. You want to ditch these two?" Alfred whispered hoarsely.

Arthur rolled his eyes, "As much as I would _love_ to wander around an unfamiliar mall with only you as company, we DO need new clothes to wear until I can change us back, git"

Alfred stuck his tongue out maturely.

They approached a small store, and from the looks of it, Alfred had a good reason to be nervous about going in there. The slightly tinted windows had metal spider web patterns covering the surface and the window displays held knee-high lace up boots, dark graphic tees, and Tripp pants; lots of chains, body jewelry, and gothic type clothing. Not exactly the American nation's cup of tea. (pun not intended.) Arthur on the other hand…

"I haven't been into one of these stores since the punk days in my country…" the blonde muttered under his breath.

Alfred's face resembled that of a deer caught in the headlights of an oncoming 18-wheeler, "_You've_ been in a store like this?"

"Of course!" Arthur shot back, "This clothing was very popular!" Arthur grinned, frightening poor Alfred, and walked briskly into the store.

"H-Hey! Wait for me!" Alfred called, running up behind Arthur as he was looking through Tripp pants.

Felix laughed and stood outside the door.

"A-Aren't you going to go in?" Matthew asked the blonde Pole.

"Nah, they never, like, like me in these places. Totally don't know why though." Felix said flippantly.

"How'd you know to bring them here?" Matthew asked, referring to Arthur's apparent enjoying of himself.

"Well" Felix said, grinning stupidly once again, "That one kid reminded me of England, and he, like, totally digs the grunge look, so I thought, 'You should totally take him to Hot Topic', and I'm such a genius that I was right."

Matthew groaned and once again wished he had his beloved polar bear with him…

"Yo Iggy, whatcha lookin' at?" Alfred asked as Arthur skimmed over a rack containing various accessories such as chains, suspenders, belts, and body jewelry.

"Don't call me that, its 'looking' not 'lookin' and 'what are you' not 'whatcha', and I _am_ getting clothes; and debating whether or not to get some earrings." The Brit said taking checkerboard suspenders off the rack.

"Uhmmmm… You need piercings for those." Alfred said, raising an eyebrow in disbelief.

"Idiot, I know that. I have thirteen." Arthur muttered offhand.

"Piercings?"

"_No_, I have thirteen _unicorns_. Yes, piercings!"

"Since when?" Alfred cried, just now noticing the barely visible holes going up the other boy's ears.

"I've had them for decades, and sometimes I wear one or two to meetings when I forget to take them out after going out the night before, " Arthur scoffed, pulling a pair of small silver studs off the rack as well, "You really are an idiot; how did you not notice?"

"…who are you and what have you done with the stuffy old man?" Alfred asked, deadpanning.

"I am neither stuffy _nor_ old!" Arthur replied, straining to keep from beating the idiot.

Alfred only made an I'm-Watching-You sign, and backed slowly into the video game merchandise section of the store.

After buying jeans for both Alfred and Arthur, a few dark tees and patterned button down shirts for Arthur, and a bunch of graphic tees for Alfred, Felix yet again dragged them down the hall.

He stopped them in front of a bathroom and shoved them inside with an order to change into acceptable clothing. Once completely changed, the small group continued on their way.

Arthur smiled a bit to himself; this wasn't as bad as he thought it was going to be. It was nice to be able to spend time with Alfred without wanting to completely tear his head off. As he thought this, he noticed Alfred staring at a group of girls who were giggling amongst themselves some distance from them. His good mood flew out the window.

"What are you doing, idiot?" Arthur asked roughly, pulling the boy's shirt to get his attention.

"Well, they were laughing, so I was seeing what was so funny!"

Arthur rolled his eyes, "They're flirting."

"Really? With who?" Alfred asked, craning his neck to see this mysterious person.

"You, idiot." Arthur groaned.

"Me? But I'm way too old for th- oh, right." Alfred chuckled, "Younger now."

Felix's face appeared in front of them suddenly, "Oh, they're not flirting with him."

Arthur looked confused for a second, before he grasped what Poland was implying.

"Wh-what? Me? Why?" he almost spazzed at the entertained, but let-down look on Alfred's face.

"I, like, don't know. You should ask them yourself." He said, shoving the boys towards the posse of girls.

Not wanting to make a huge deal, Arthur pulled Alfred over to the small group of girls.

"Hullo." Arthur said, letting his accent grow a bit thicker and earning a surprised look from Alfred.

"Hi!" one of the three chirped up, "Are you new around here? We haven't seen you before…"

"Yeah, we just moved in with our older bro." Alfred said, smiling his trademark grin. He was not about to be shown up by _Arthur_ of all people.

"Oh, you're brothers?" another girl asked, "You look nothing alike…"

"We're step-brothers. I'm from London, m'name's Arthur. This is Alfred, he's from D.C." Arthur explained.

"So you live here now?" The third girl asked, an eager grin plastered onto her face.

"Yup! We're starting school in the area. [insert school name here]!" Alfred practically sang.

"No way!" the second girl cried, "That's where we go! What grade will you be going into?"

"Eighth grade." Alfred announced proudly. "You?"

"Same here!"

Okay. Arthur had had enough of the flirting game. He had done it at first to get Alfred jealous- NO. He did it to satisfy Poland and get the girls to stop laughing. That and _only _that. And now that Alfred had gone into a long conversation with these girls, including many fluttering of eyelashes and huge, beaming smiles that were usually reserved for hi- Arthur shook his head violently.

"Uhhh… You okay, Iggy?" Alfred asked, chuckling at how ridiculous the blonde looked.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm fine. But we need to go. Our _brother_ is waiting for us." Arthur said, ignoring the girl's muttering of 'how cute is that name? Iggy!'

Alfred waved to the girls and marched back to Matthew and Felix, with Arthur following behind slowly.

"Okay!" Alfred cried, "I call picking the next store 'cause I'm th-"

He was cut off by Arthur's elbow ramming violently into his ribcage"

"What the hell was that for?" Alfred winced, rubbing his die.

"Sorry, my arm slipped."

Alfred frowned deeply and grabbed Arthur's hand. A feeling of warmth crept into Arthur's mind and he swear there was something flying around in his stomach- What. No. Stop it mind.

"Anyway, I pick next store!" Alfred insisted, dragging the blonde by the hand into Abercrombie and Fitch.

Immediately upon entering the store, Arthur knew this was going to suck. He could practically _feel_ the toxic 'perfume' sliding down his lungs. He coughed and covered his nose with his sleeve.

"My God! What is that stench?" he gagged out.

"Hmmm? I don't smell anything!" Alfred grinned. That devilish, evil, I'm-so-innocent, wonderful, sexy— stopping now.

"Yeah right, you git. You picked this place on purpose." Arthur muttered, glaring at the unaffected American. Alfred only chuckled and pulled England over to the shirts.

After Felix had decided they had bought enough clothing for the boys, he told them they could wander around alone while he and Matthew had "Like, a big person talk". In other words, "as we plan your demise by filling out the paperwork to send you to school".

Normally, Arthur would have been vehemently opposed to spending any time with Alfred, but there were three reasons he needed to. _One_. He owed the boy for changing him into a 13-year old. _Two_. Felix might figure out who he was if he made to big a scene. And _Three_. He slightly felt as if he _wanted_ to spend time with Alfred.

So for an hour or so, the two wandered the mall aimlessly, talking and joking around. Arthur hadn't been able to talk with Alfred like this for decades, longer even, and it was possibly the highlight of his day. Until those blasted girls found them and started flirting with Alfred again. He had to add them to his list of "Destroy these Humans".

* * *

**Sorry this took a bit after Saturday to post up! My internet was being tempermental! D'x**

**I promised you guys I would update sooner! (Which I did, it's about a week sooner!) And it's 2 pages more than normal so I hope it'll make up for the time I missed!**

**THANK YOU SO MUCH TO NICOLE FOR HELPING WITH THIS CHAPTER! YOU. ARE. _THE_. BEST.**

**I hope you guys enjoyed the chapter! **


	5. The first period

_Hey you guys! Thank you for being so patient! I'm sorry this is late (again), but I've been horribly sick the past week and I couldn't get enough energy together to get my laptop and get typin. (Not to mention I was sick on my birthday too...)_

_Anyway!_

_Chapter 5! Thank you so much! (Please see bottom for minor translations!)_

* * *

Arthur had never felt so put on display in his entire life.

"Students!" the teacher announced, clapping her hands to direct all of the chattering teenagers' eyes to the front of the room. That which they did, and the chatter ceased, or to minute whispers for the most part. All eyes were laid on Arthur and Alfred: the new students. "These are the new students, Arthur Kirkland and Alfred Jones. Please do give them a warm welcome!" the short lady turned to the two, "Go ahead you two, grab a seat in the back row and wait until Homeroom is dismissed and go to your first period." She said, shooing the two away from the front of the room.

There were two seats in the same row, right behind each other, which Arthur and Alfred chose. On the way to said seats, Arthur received a hard slap on the back from one of the students, who laughed along with his buddies, and who the Brit assumed to be jock, and an idiot even more than Alfred was. He scowled at the kid before slumping down in his seat in a thing mixed between a desk and a chair behind his ex-colony.

England was _not_ enjoying this. America, however, seemed to be. He, from Arthur's line of sight, was getting giggles, waves, and smiles from the girls in the room. Yet more humans to add to the list to destroy once he got his normal body back.

It was a good thing for Arthur that his seat was right next to a window, which he could look out and wish he had just ignored the hyperactive American sitting in front of him at the meeting so he wouldn't be in this mess. His daydream of being back at home only lasted a few short minutes before he noticed Alfred grinning like a goof at a group of girls who were blushing like mad and waving sheepishly. Arthur gave a hard kick to his chair, which practically knocked him out of the blasted thing.

Upon the sudden clamor, the teacher suddenly looked up, then around, and returned her gaze to the papers on her desk, apparently not giving a care. A few students giggled, others stared (mostly at Arthur), and the rest ignored the incident as if it was a normal coincidence.

"What was that for?" Alfred hissed as another kick was aimed towards his rear. He narrowly avoided it, but forgot his attacker had two shoe-ended limbs to lash out with and got knocked in the head.

"Oh, nothing~. Idiot."

Alfred swore he could feel the millions of little poison-tipped daggers Arthur was mentally shooting at him penetrate his head. Not a very pleasant feeling, mind you.

The island nation leaned back in his desk-chair in satisfaction and returned his gaze out the window. The sky was grey, and the trees blew mildly. A storm was coming. _Brilliant. More rain…_

_Riiiiiinnnnnnnng._

At the sound of an eardrum-wrenching bell, all of the other students grabbed their things, got up, and were out the door faster than you can say "floccinaucinihilipilification" (if you can even say it). The whole process was done so swiftly it left the two boy nations in awe.

"So uh, Iggy-"

"**Don't**call me that, git," a deathglare was thrown Alfred's way.

"-where do we go now?"

"First period."

"Which is where, Mr. stuffy-old-man?"

"I am not stuffy, nor old! How many times do I have to bloody repeat myself?-"

By the time the two finished arguing and got to their next class, they were late by seventeen minutes, and the teacher was not pleased.

* * *

Three men sat at the corner table in a local pub. Two drunk out of their wits, the other not even touched the mug of the amber colored liquid to his left. But instead, the sober Spanish man insisted on feverishly texting to his angered lover.

"Yo, Francey!" the white-haired man hiccupped, taking another large swig of his drink.

"_Oui?"_

"What's the difference between a woman and a washing machine?"

"Geh…c'mon _mon cher_ Gilbert, you've already said that one!"

"I have? Hmm… well, my awesome self doesn't remember doing that. Ok! How 'bout this one!"

The Prussian man continued to spout vile jokes that drove other drunken customers away from their occupied corner of the pub. With every fleeing patron, the bar owner's face got redder and redder with his infuriation with the three.

If Gilbert had been counting, (it's not like the awesome him would be, counting is so un-awesome) he would probably have bragging rights to a normal human to say he'd downed about 10 or more mugs of beer. Not like that was unusual for him, he _was_, or used to be, Prussia after all. In other words, he was pretty much stoned. And any innocent child should beware.

His glassy red-eyed gaze watched the Spainish nation curiously before swiftly stealing his phone and dangling it above its owners head. "C'mooon Tonio, join in the fun and drink! Who 'ya texing here anyway, hunh? You can't hide it from the awesome me!" Despite Antonio's pleads to give the little vibrating piece of technology back, Prussia slid open the phone and opened the text message that was waiting there, the ID labeled "Lovi~!" with what seemed like a million little hearts following. He stared at the screen before almost passing out from loss of blood through his nostrils. "HAHAHA! Daaaamn, Antonio! Who knew Romano could be so kinky!" He tossed the phone back to the Spaniard, who fumbled with it for a few seconds before staring at the screen as well. His eyes widened and he feverishly continued to text back to his Lovino.

"Did you hear?" Francis interrupted after a few minutes of his friend's immature teasing.

His two mates, Gilbert sitting on Antonio's back, a hand gripping his hair to try to get the phone back, snapped their attention to the Frenchman. "_Was_?" The albino German grinned. The tone of Francis' voice told him something juicy was going to be passed around.

"Did you hear that _mon cher __Angleterre et en Amérique_ are in a bit of a, how you say, predicament?"

"Oh really?" Gilbert's interest was sparked almost instantaneously, "Are we involved in another dating service? If we are, count the awesome me in!"

"You could say that," He cooed, a delicious and devious concoction of a plan bubbling inside his mind, "My adorable sources tell me that our dear _Angleterre _and_ Amérique-"_

"Your sources? As in Mattie-boy?"

France scoffed, "_Non_, I never said that!" He cleared his throat. "Back to the point, my "sources" tell _moi_ that _mon cher Angleterre _lashed out on poor _Amérique_ at his party the other night. And there was a little, _magie_."

"Sexy magic?" Antonio chirped up for the first time in this conversation.

"_Angleterre's magice_."

"…sexy magic?"

"Magic, magic, idiot!" Gilbert gave Antonio a noogie for good measure, "Y'know! With wizards and wands and shit!"

"Ohhh! _Esa magia!_"

Francis continued though his other two companions were rambling, "And this _magie_ turned _mon cher __Angleterre et en Amérique _into hormonal teenagers!"

Silence overcame the other two. Their eyes wide and mouths let agape. "What?"

"You heard me."

"And whad'ya want us to do about it?"

"I've also been told they are enrolled in a human school."

"…Aaaaand?"

"Middle school is truly a place of _l'amour_ and _drame, non_?"

The ex-nation stared at him, his face reading "You lost me at 'human school'".

The Frenchman sighed and leaned in, a devious grin spread on his face, "Here's what we are going to do~"

* * *

What could _possibly _make this day worse? Oh yes, first being stuck in a fucking human school, in a teenager's body, being _glared_ at my individuals in the room. To make it worse? Being in _gym class_. Of all classes first period.

Arthur and Alfred were tossed a uniform of a thin white t-shirt and knee-length, royal blue athletic shorts by the gym teacher. He was a young man of roughly twenty-six, a strong build, and a kind face. His name started with an "H", but Arthur never cared to remember. The two were told to go into the locker room, which was since empty due to the fact they were nearly twenty minutes late, and halfway into the period.

"You're enjoying this, aren't you, git." Arthur frowned at himself in the mirror. He never liked shorts; or sneakers for that matter. If you found him in one or the other, you wouldn't. If he ever wore both, he swore he'd be dead. That must be the case now.

"Enjoying what?"

The Briton glared at Alfred in the mirror, "You know bloody well what…" he muttered.

"Amuse me." Arthur spun around to be looking straight up into those deep, beautiful, cerulean blue eyes he loved so much. The nostalgia flooded back from the day of the meeting, and the Island nation adverted his eyes, feeling the demon nicknamed "blush" quickly creeping its way onto his cheeks.

What he didn't notice, was that Alfred was slowly leaning in, closer, and closer, and Arthur knew what he wanted. He looked up at him with his cheeks hot. Why did they always betray him like this? Arthur knew he himself deep inside desperately wanted this and was screaming for him to just do it already, but-

"C'mon boys! Get out here! The third round is about to begin!"

The two nations jumped apart, startled by the teacher. _What was I thinking?_ The Briton thought, _we're in a school! It's just these stupid teenager hormones! I'm glad I grew out of these a long time ago. _His cheeks burned, but Arthur rushed out of the locker room and out onto the gym floor where the third round of dodge ball was starting. Alfred was soon to follow.

The American's eyes lit up when he saw the red, rubber balls lined up on the halfway-line, just screaming to impale in someone's face. The British nation, however, pressed himself against the wall of bleachers that served as a backboard. "No, no no no no!" Though other students stared at him, Arthur glared the sharpest daggers he could manage at the balls. "Bullocks."

"Get ready!"

Alfred was on the opposite team, along with others, poised in a running start to get a ball first.

"GO!"

Everyone ran forward to the middle at the blow of the whistle. Arthur kept himself pressed to the back. There was no way in hell was he going to get impaled with one of those air-filled rubber balls of death.

Before he could see what was going on, kids were getting knocked out left and right. Hits to the gut, legs, chest- it was horrifying. Who in their sane mind would create a game like this? Arthur was to be sure this game was never played in his country.

After many ice packs and bloody noses, a "normal" game of dodge ball was over. Arthur had never gotten hit once, due to hiding in the back, and Alfred ruled the game. Apparently he had some followers. _Good for him_ Arthur thought jealously. He couldn't wait for this day to be over already.

* * *

_I based the gym teacher off my own teacher, (well the guys gym teacher, my teacher is a b**ch!)_

_I apologize for language overload!_

_Translations:_

_(french) **mon cher**- _my dear

_(german) **was?**_** -** what?

_(french)** mon cher Angleterre et en Amérique**_ - my dear England and America

_(french)_** Angleterre**_-_ England

_(french)** Amérique**_- America

_(french) **moi **_**- **me

_(french)** magice **- _(if you cant figure that out) magic

_(spanish)** Esa magia! **_**- **that magic!

_(french)** l'amour and drame, non?**_ - love and drama, no?

_YES THE BAD TOUCH TRIO! BWAHAHAHA! I have many expectations for them!_

_I based the school America and England are in off of my own school. It's all I got ^^;_

_ALMOST YAOI! ALMOST YAOI! *nosebleeds to death*_

_Thank you guys again for the awesome reviews! I'm so happy you all like it this much!_

**_Awesomesauce people rate and review, ARE YOU AWESOMESAUCE?_**


	6. Unbelievable Substitues

**Why, hello thar everyone~**

**I'm SO sorry for the extremely slow updates. My reasons:**

**1) I'm a major procrastinator.**

**2) It's summer and I'm super lazy this time of year Dx**

**Please enjoy the chapter! I put a lot of heart into this one!**

* * *

"Ow."

"C'mooon, Iggy! It's not _that_ bad!"

"I repeat, OW."

On their way out of the gymnasium, one of the students had thought it funny to throw one of those rubber death balls at Arthur's head as he walked out the door. One trip to the nurse's office and an ice pack later, and they were off. The two nations argued the entire way to their next class, second period, which was, to Arthur's delight, English class.

The bell rung not soon after the two walked in the door. Arthur felt the eyes of the teenagers in the room once again on him and his ex-colony. His sharp green eyes scanned the room, glaring at those that were snickering. He wished he could be Matthew right now and be invisible, but the world hated him.

"Okaaaay!"

A voice with a mix of American accents cracked Arthur's gaze over the area, and he shot his gaze toward the tall teacher in the front of the room. He was the same height as Alfred in his normal body, (which Arthur estimated was about 5'9), and his short mousy brown hair was spiked up and wild, and he carried a long wooden pointer stick in his hand.

When a minority of the class continued to talk, the teacher whacked the wooden stick onto a vacant desk nearby, waking up a student who apparently didn't get enough sleep the night before. "Shut your faces, ya' chaunches!" The talking ceased.

_This man looks familiar…_, Arthur had thought, before the teacher had insisted on introducing the two to the rest of the class.

"I'm Mr. Kutz! Got it memorized?" he tapped the left side of his forehead and gave a goofy grin. "Go 'head and pick any empty desk, fresh meat!" A few giggles sprung around.

Alfred went ahead to pick a seat, with, to Arthur's satisfaction, an open seat next to him. But before he sat down, he needed to ask the teacher something. He turned to Mr. Kutz, who was extremely tall, thanks to the Briton being even shorter. His green eyes examined him before he asked. "Are you the Doctor?"

A moment of thought flickered across the teachers face. "Doctor who?"

"Exactly." Arthur said, smirking, and walking to his seat next to America.

* * *

It was a long class period of Shakespeare's _The Merchant of Venice_, and several paper balls that were thrown at the back of Arthur's head. Alfred had fallen asleep during the reading of the play, which influenced Mr. Kutz to fling a roll of toilet paper at him to wake him up, but to no avail. It took Arthur hitting him in the back of the head to wake the American up.

"Geeeeeez, Iggy. You hit hard!" Alfred whined, rubbing the back of his head as they walked down the hall to nearly the opposite end of the school for their third period.

"If you hadn't fallen asleep during the middle of a very well written playwright, then I wouldn't have needed to, git. And how many times have I told you to _STOP CALLING ME THAT!"_

He laughed in response.

* * *

"Oh _mon cher_ Gilbert! You look very fetching!" Francis cooed, examining his "work of art" that was the Prussian nation. Somehow he had managed to get Gilbert into fancy-shmancy clothes for their plan.

"Oi! How come I haveta' wear this when Tonio over there is wearing just a fucking t-shirt and jeans?" Antonio smiled a rare, devilish grin before his phone vibrated in his pocket, the little tomato charm flashing, and he was reading the text instantaneously.

"That is because he owns lovely clothes for the occasion! You, however, do not."

Gilbert growled something about getting Antonio to get Romano to go all Mafia on Francis.

"Let me go over the plan once more, _mon cher_ Gilbert," the Frenchman said, getting an eye roll in response from the albino. "You are going to apply for a substituting position at Alpine Middle School. Antonio and I," he made a head gesture to Antonio who was concentrating on texting, to whom Prussia believed to be Lovino, "will as well. From this position, we can spy on our dear _Amérique et en Angleterre!_"

"Can't we just spy on the little brats from the window? The awesome me refuses to wear a suit!"

"But this is more elaborate, _Prusse_! _And I never said you had to wear a suit…_"

* * *

Well this was a boring waste of a whole forty minutes. The teacher, who went by the name of Mrs. Gerheart, taught about volcanoes. Arthur knew very well that Iceland's volcano has caused him enough trouble, and he didn't want a reminder.

While not exactly paying attention, Arthur looked over to Alfred, who was having a very loud conversation with the brunette girl behind the Brit. Looking back up to the front, the teacher wasn't pleased with the interruption.

"Alfred!"

The american's attention snapped to the front of the room, "huh?"

"Since you're chatting away, I assume you know everything on the lesson!"

"Sure do," He replied with his signature thousand-watt grin.

Arthur facepalmed.

Ms. Gerheart scoffed, "If you know _everything_ I'll just give you the chapter test now!"

Arthur thought that at that remark it would shut the git up for a while. But the outcome was rather surprising.

"Okay! And I'll ace it!"

He stared at Alfred in disbelief, as well as the rest of the class. There was no way that idiot could pass a test like that! But, on second thought, he probably does know a considerable amount more than the normal person on the subject of geology and such, remembering his age.

The teacher handed the hyperactive git the test, and he left the room to be seated at the desk out in the hall. It was less than fifteen minutes later before Alfred reentered the room, completed test in hand, and a vivacious grin on his face. The teacher, and the entire class stared in incredulity yet again. (Some faces similar to O[]o) He handed Ms. Gerheart the test and returned to his seat, the grin still remaining.

She quickly looked over the test, her expression changing from disbelief, to shock, to something between happiness and the previous two. She looked up from the test only to stare at the grinning-like-a-goof Alfred in the seat next to Arthur, who, really wanted to hit the American for acting arrogant.

She started smiling and said cheerily, "You aced it."

The class broke into a chorus of "Woah!"'s, and some clapped.

Arthur stared in serious shock, and felt a pang of jealousy spark up. _So the git really isn't an idiot afterall…_

* * *

"Wasn't I seriously awesome back there? I knew every single questions' answer! That had to be the easiest test I've ever taken!"

Arthur glared at him, "Have you ever actually _taken_ a test before?"

"Does a driving test count?"

The island nation rolled his eyes in annoyance. He had doubted Alfred's stupidity for a couple minutes until the boy had showed his inner idiot side once again.

Arthur couldn't wait for the day to end.

_

* * *

_

(TomatoLoviLover3 has joined the conversation)

_(Awsmelikealittlebird_ has joined the conversation)

_(French_Beauty_ has joined the conversation)

**French_Beauty**: _Mon cher _Antonio, Gilbert, you know the plan, _oui_?

**TomatoLoviLover3**: _Si_!

**Awsmelikealittlebird**: Of course, Frenchie! The awesome me never forgets a thing!

**French_Beauty**: Are you in position, Antonio?

**French_Beauty**: …_Antonio_!

**TomatoLoviLover3**: _Lo siento_! i wuz mssgng my Lovi~! y won't he reply~? TT~TT

**TomatoLoviLover3**: _Si_! ~

**Awsmelikealittlebird**: And I am too! Operation "Infiltrate the school system where Artie and Alfred are attending and get places as substitutes to spy on them" commences! Kesesesese!

**Awsmelikealittlebird**: THIS IS GONNA BE SO FUCKING AWESOME!111

_(Awsmelikealittlebird_ has left the conversation)

**TomatoLoviLover3**: The bell jst rung I need 2 go! Ttyl _señor _Francis!

_(TomatoLoviLover3 _has left the conversation)

**French_Beauty**: ….. :3

**French_Beauty**: Fufufufufufufu~

_(French_Beauty_ has left the conversation)

_(TomatoLoviLover3 _has joined the conversation)

_(Lovino_of_Rome _has joined the conversation)

**TomatoLoviLover3**: OMG LOVI UR ON~~~!1111 *lots of hearts* *GLOMP*

**Lovino_of_Rome**: WTF STOP FOLLOWING ME YOU BASTARD!

_(Lovino_of_Rome _has left the conversation)

**TomatoLoviLover3**: But Loooovvvviiiii~~~! *lots of hearts*

_(TomatoLoviLover3 _has left the conversation)

* * *

The bell had just rung, and fourth period begun. Alfred and Arthur had just sat down in empty seats right as the period started. _Study hall…_ Arthur thought, a small, weary smile creeping onto his lips, _I don't have to deal with anything except this moron for the whole fourty minutes. Lovely~_

The teacher for this class had his head buried into his laptop, typing away. The sounds of an AOL chatroom occasionally escaped the piece of technology's speakers. All that could be seen of this man from where Arthur sat was the messy, chocolate brown hair on his head.

Roughly ten or eleven other kids sat in the desks nearby. Many were chatting with buddies who sat next to them, others were furiously scratching away at a piece of paper that must have been last night's homework that said students didn't do. One or two were already asleep at their desks by the time the loud buzzer rang.

Arthur noticed that the teacher wasn't paying much attention to the class, even if it _was_ a study hall. His head seemed to quickly snap back a bit from the laptop screen as if in shock. This man looked horrifyingly familiar.

The Brit whacked Alfred on the head for flirting with a girl on his opposite side before leaning over. "Did you notice the teacher?"

The American's gaze shifted to the desk in the front corner of the room before returning to Arthur's hard stare. "Of course there's a teacher, Iggy!"

"No, you git!" Arthur hissed, "The teacher, doesn't he look like someone _we _know?"

Before Alfred could reply, they both heard the teacher start to whine to someone on the other end of a cell phone call. _Weren't teachers not allowed to have cell phones?_

"But Loooovviiii~! Im kinda busy right now! No, no! Don't be mad~! I'm not with Francis or Gilbert! I promise! I'll be sure to make you something tonight with lotsa' tomatoes in it for dinner, okay~?"

Arthur and Alfred stared at each other with wide, disbelieving eyes.

"Are you thinking what I'm thinking?"Arthur whispered.

"Are you thinking 'fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck' too?"

"Ayup."

They both turned their heads to stare at the obnoxious Spainiard at the front of the room, chatting away to his Italian lover.

_FUCK._

* * *

**I sure do hope you enjoyed! X3**

**NOTE: The reason why Alfred is considered smart in this chapter is because the author said himself that Alfred only acts like he's stupid when he really isn't. :3 I thought I would put that concept into action.**

**The Bad Touch Trio's plan is set in motion! **

**France and Prussia will be in the later chapters, I promise! **

**Also, a side note, I will probably be updating stories less often than normal due to laziness. I really apologize! *bows in apology***

**_Awesomesauce people rate and review. Are YOU _awesomesauce?**


	7. As if dodgeballs weren't enough…

_**CHAPTER 7! YAY! *shot* **_

**_*comes back from the dead* Do enjoy the maddness! 8D_**

* * *

Lovino Vargas angrily paced the bedroom that he shared with his Spanish lover. Not only did he wake up to an empty bed, but he woke up to an empty bed with a note where the idiot should have been. As the Southern Italian paced, he repeated the contents of the note to himself mentally: _Dear Lovi, I'm with Francis and Gilbert, so don't worry! And don't be mad either! I'll be back soon! Te amo!_

"Damn that fucking bastard _Spagna_! He left me all alone in this scary house to be with his perverted dumbass friends, dammit!" Romano crumpled up the note and tossed it furiously at the wall, only getting angrier when the paper ball didn't even reach said wall, but instead slowly floated back to the floor. He tore the blankets off the bed and wrapped them around himself before storming downstairs to retrieve his cell phone.

He flipped open the small device and stared at the notice on the screen reading _32 new messages from Tomato idiot_. Romano ignored the large amount of text messages, and opened AOL messenger. His consciousness wasn't fully awake yet, so calling would have been a nightmare. He started a chat with _TomatoLoviLover3_, AKA: that idiot Spain; and the next five or so minutes contained a very vulgar, abusive, and a ranting in Italian chat conversation, such to a level that I cannot repeat. Let's just say that Romano typed so fast on his phone's keyboard it was practically smoking.

The Southern Italian was more awake now after his morning rant, and sick of just chatting on an online messenger. He dialed Antonio's number and pressed the phone to his ear, gritting his teeth in anger.

As soon as the ringing ceased, the yelling begun.

"Where the fuck are you, you dick? You left me all alone and didn't even wake me up to say a fucking goodbye, dammit! If I die, it's your damn fault! You better get back here right now or I'll kick the living tomato shit out of you, you bastard!"

On the other end of the phone call, the Spanish man tried desperately to convince his precious Italian of the fact that he didn't need to be mad…

"But Loooovviiii~! I'm kinda busy right now!

"Busy with what you fucking bastar-"

"No, no! Don't be mad~!"

"I'LL BE MAD IF I WANT TO, DAMMIT!"

"I'm not with Francis or Gilbert! I promise~!"

"Liar!"

" I'll be sure to make you something tonight with lotsa' tomatoes in it for dinner, okay~? Sound good?"

Romano huffed. He knew he could never resist against tomatoes. If he did, the world would probably be ending. Like if his brother suddenly decided he was sick of eating pasta. "Fuck you," He slammed the innocent flip-phone shut and ended the call before his lover could reply. However, Antonio, being as oblivious as he is, didn't even notice Romano hung up and kept on blabbering away.

* * *

Not only was this day getting on Arthur's nerves, but the idiotic "substitute" in the front of the room was as well. The Spaniard was so loud you could have heard him over an explosion of massive proportions. (And this was why Arthur had destroyed Antonio's armada. _Oh those were the days…)_

The Briton looked over to Alfred who sat next to him, doodling on a piece of notebook paper. Sketches of the Superman logo, as well as the American flag were pretty cliché, even for him. Yet there was something on the paper that caught Arthur's eye. From what he could see, it looked like Alfred had started writing something in pen, but changed his mind and scribbled it all out in pencil. And pencil was erasable.

He swiftly reached over and grabbed the paper out from under Alfred's pencil and immediately started erasing the scribbled gray marks over the black ink.

"Hey! I was drawing on that!" Alfred reached back over; trying to snatch the paper back, but Arthur was faster.

The Brit held up the paper out of the other's grasp, and read the scribbled handwriting on the light blue lined paper. It wasn't long before he read the scribe, and a bright red flush overcame his cheeks. "What the bloody fuck is this?"

"Well you see… uhh… …Ahh…. I got nothing." He laughed, quite nervously as Arthur could tell. Alfred's failure at an excuse didn't make the situation any better.

The Briton shoved the letter in his pocket and happy resorted to going back to paying no heed to the American for the rest of the ten or so minutes they had in that class.

And those ten or so minutes flew by like a few seconds before the bell rang, and Arthur was the first out the door and down the hall before anyone, especially Alfred, knew what the heck was going on.

* * *

It just happened to be two more pain-staking class periods until the bell rang, and the 8th grade students were released to lunch. However, it was only fifth period now.

Arthur stepped off of the last step leading down to the dimly lit Lecture Hall, notebook in hand, and Alfred's letter tucked safely away in his front left pocket. He was early, it seemed, and small clusters of students sat sporadically in the desks, having conversations within themselves. The room was like a college classroom, but not as big. The desks were aligned in rows that layered themselves on a sloped floor. The high ceiling, with dimmed lights, must have reached at least a story and a half high. (AKA: About 10-15 feet.)

He seated himself in the very top row, and the seat on the end on the very right. Arthur wasn't overall sure if Alfred was going to be in this class with him, but something inside of the Brit really, _really_ hoped he would.

Arthur discreetly watched the students enter the classroom from his seat in the back of the class. Even if they had known he was watching them, he doubted they would have cared enough to even wonder what he was doing. As the bell rang, starting the class, Arthur sighed. Alfred wasn't in this class. The funny thing was, he wasn't sure whether he was happy about it, or sad. He couldn't really concentrate on that right now, he was too busy trying to figure out what that blasted note meant! He pulled it out again, and started to open it.

"Ah~! What is this?" came an obnoxious voice with a French accent. Oh God. "A student with no friends? Don't worry, _mon ami_, I shall be your friend!"

Arthur had to bite back his usual sarcastic response, lest he be discovered, and tried his best to smile at Francis. "I'm fine old man, I just don't have any friends in this class," he said, enjoying the look of despair on the Frenchman's face at the word "old".

Francis crossed his arms and said, while flipping his hair, "I am not old! This face and body is the picture of youthful beauty, grace, and agility!"

_Weren't you just complaining at the last meeting about how your back hurt?_ Arthur thought bitterly, staring at Francis as he made his way to the front of the class.

"_Bonjour, mes eleves!_ Hello, students!" he said with a flourish, turning to the chalkboard and writing his name, "My name is Monsieur Francis Bonnefoy! You may call me _Monsieur _Bonnefoy, Francis, lover, or darling."

Arthur nearly gagged.

"Today~!" he stretched out the word as he wandered the front of the room, "I will be teaching you the wonders of the human reproductive system. Also known as sex."

Arthur did in fact gag, and several other students paled considerably.

"I am prepared to use myself as an example if the occasion does a-"

"Mister Bonnefoy!" a girl in the front interrupted, "W-we uhhh... we were learning the skeletal system! and we uhh... have a test on that soon, so we have to learn that. That and nothing else."

Francis sighed, "Well, if that is the case, I will be of no help. If you need me I will be on the computer doing_ COMPLETELY_ legal things. You must read your textbooks in silence." The Frenchmen gloomily moved to his seat behind the teacher's desk as students began pulling out their books. Arthur pulled out Alfred's note again, reading it slowly. If he didn't figure out the real meaning behind those words, he was going to go bloody insane!

The bell rang suddenly, signaling the change of classes and jerking Arthur out of his reverie. He quickly shoved the note back into his pocket and gathered his books. As he hurried out of the room, Francis called, "Have a good day, _mon amis_! _A toute a l'huere!_"

* * *

6th period. Arthur wanted to shoot himself. Math, let alone _Algebra_,was never one of his strong points, so he spent the entire class doodling and reading and re-reading the note. He was called on once or twice, making an ass of himself each time, because he was completely unaware that anything outside of that dome we call his mind was occurring.

* * *

"Thank you Matthew you are my savior." Arthur muttered under his breath with a content smile. He only realized he had no lunch money on him until he approached the casher. Typing in his pin number he received earlier that day, he found, much to his surprise, that Alfred's wonderful brother had transferred money into one of those modern "online accounts". The technology advances these days were going to nip Arthur in the butt eventually if he didn't catch up with the flow.

The Brit made his way to the seating area, where dozens upon dozens of students were sitting and eating their lunches and talking with their group of friends.

This school seemed to be like any other, Arthur noted. The tables were separated into different groups: the preps, the nerds, the "Gangsters", and even the kids who had no life. There were few, small empty tables that dotted the cafeteria, but Arthur looked almost desperately for the other nation in the room; whom he found to be seated quite happily with the "in" crowd, otherwise known as the preps.

He knew he wasn't welcome there with Alfred, so the lonely island nation sat himself down at the nearest empty table and gloomily slid his meal off to the side. Three dollars for the cheap dish he was given was way too much. And he thought the downfall of the American economy was a joke! Downfall was just an understatement!

_I wish I was home…_ The Briton thought, feeling depression looming over him. So he laid his head in his folded arms and stared longingly at Alfred for the thirty minutes that was set aside for lunch until the students were released to their 7th period classes.

* * *

Francis and Antonio sat gloomily in the teacher's lounge while they waited for their Albino friend to show. Gilbert was about ten minutes later than planned.

The dozen or so people in the room jumped when the door was slammed open loudly and the Prussian ex-nation came walking into the lounge and plopped himself down in the roller chair, propping his feet up on the long table. "Sup bitches?" he grinned. Gilbird cheeped from atop the mess of white hair. But the other two remained in gloom.

"What the hell is wrong with you guys? You should be more ecstatic now that you're in my godly presence!" Gilbert laughed, slipping a beer out from within his jacket.

"I was called old…" The Frenchman muttered. Even more gloom swallowed the space above him upon saying so.

"And Lovi's _reaaally_ mad at me…" the Spaniard whimpered, still texting on his phone. He probably wasn't getting any replies, only because he pouted every time he typed a new message.

Taking a swig from his drink (that he wasn't even technically supposed to have), Gilbert stared at his companions before remembering their plan. "So did you guys get any dirt on Artie and Alfred yet?"

The two froze. _Crap._ Being substitutes was hard work, and they forgot about gathering blackmail evidence.

"Weeeell!" The Prussian sang, "Guess who the awesome me has in class next period!" Upon receiving gloomy and blank looks from the other two, he continued, "I do happen to have certain pair of nat-" he cut himself off before he yelled "nations" in a room full of unknowing humans. Even though Gilbert wasn't the most careful of people, he didn't exactly want their secret getting out. That would cause some major chaos. And awesome people didn't put their friends in danger. "Nations~" he whispered, grinning. A sinister look that could rival Russia's crept onto his face. And the red eyes made it scarier.

Some poor teachers in the room cowered when they saw the Albino's look.

"_Prusse_, you _must _stop scaring the humans like that."

* * *

World history class, finally something that Arthur could enjoy and understand if not excel! He almost allowed himself to smile as he walked into the room… until he noticed Alfred sitting in the front of the room talking with a bunch of students. Immediately, his mood plummeted, and he walked nervously past the group to his seat. Alfred paid him no heed, however, refusing to even look in his direction. Of course Alfred would be upset, considering that Arthur stole the "private" note from underneath his pencil, but he wasn't used to being ignored by the American. Usually, if Alfred had a problem with Arthur, he'd come right out and say it, usually in the best possible way to humiliate the Brit.

Just as Arthur sat down, the teacher ran into the room.

"Dramatic entrance, _SUCESS_!" he shouted, sliding into place in the front of the room full of startled students, "Heya, kiddies. I'm your sub-history teacher, Gilbert Beilschmidt! But you can call me Mr. Awesome, or just God. Whichever suits your fancy!" The Prussian grinned and stared at his victims-errr... students. One cautiously raised her hand.

"Yes?" Gilbert answered cockily.

"What's wrong with your eyes? Were you, like, crying a lot or something?"

_You stupid girl..._ Arthur thought, shaking his head sadly, _You're in for it now..._

"Excuse me? Did you just accuse the awesome Pru-Gilbert of being a crybaby?" the albino snapped, looming over the girl's desk, "I'm an albino! I have an incurable genetic disorder! And I'm a man! And MEN. DON'T. CRY!"

Once certain that the child had been scarred enough for one day, Gilbert turned to the blackboard and drew a fairly impressive outline of Europe. "What is this?" he asked.

"Europe." a few students called out.

He nodded and drew in some countries outlines. But Arthur was fairly certain the countries hadn't looked like that since...oh God.

"And what is this country?" he inquired.

Blank stares. Except for Arthur. He was banging his head against the desk.

"Kid, cut that out, of you'll end up like my friend Feli." he said, before pointing to the country again, "THIS country is, well was, the AWESOMEST country EVER, known as PRUSSIA! Nobody remembers it here, even though PRUSSIAN generals trained the soldiers of the American Revolution and allowed you to kick the British's asses! AND we perfected military organization and medical techniques! But no one cares just because PRUSSIA's not a country anymore because the fucking Allied Powers decided it was okay to destroy an entire COUNTRY!"

Arthur gave up and laid his head on his hands gloomily.

The rest of the period digressed from rants about Prussia to why birds were the best. At the end of the class, Arthur stood up and picked up his books. He had decided to try to talk to Alfred, and that this had possibly been the least productive day of his life. As he walked over to Alfred, the American looked. A faint blush came over his cheeks and he grabbed his books and nearly sprinted out the door.

"Alfred-!" Arthur called, rushing out of the room, only to see that the American was gone. He sighed and pulled out the note again and started reading. Before he was even halfway through the words he had practically memorized, the note was pulled out of his hands.

"Hey, what's this?" said a tall boy, who was clearly inhibited by something. Be it drugs, alcohol, or his own stupidity, Arthur would never know.

Another boy read the note over his shoulder, "Looks like we got a gay, Ben." he grinned.

Arthur blushed a bit as he glared at the two who towered over him, "Give that back."

"Aww, ain't that cute." Ben grinned, "The poor girl wants his note back!"

Two other boys approached the group laughing. Arthur analyzed his situation. Four against one. Bad. He was short. Also bad. He was bloody good at fighting, but he couldn't last against four boys.

"Look, I have to leave. Can I please just have that?" he asked, holding out his hand.

"What's the word I'm looking for..?" Ben murmured, looking around at his friends, "Oh, yeah. NO."

Arthur grabbed the note and turned to leave. Before he could get very far someone grabbed the back of his shirt.

"Hey sissy, I was talking to you." Ben said angrily, "Are all gay Brits this rude?"

"Kiss my arse." Arthur said, spitting into the boy's face.

Ben glared and punched him to the ground, "Who the hell do you think you are?" Ben shouted, kicking Arthur's dropped books across the hall.

"Someone more powerful than you'll ever know…" he muttered. The Brit wiped the blood from his busted lip. He stood up and glared at Ben. But he knew better then to punch the bastard back, so he bent down to pick up his books. Suddenly, one of Ben's groupies kicked him in the side, unlocking the door. One after another, the assaulter's friends took turns calling Arthur names and hitting him.

"What th-" Ben cried as a fist flew out of nowhere and knocked him into the lockers.

"Hey ya druggies!"

Suddenly they all turned to the interrupter of the torture, only the tallest of the gang to be decked straight to the face by Arthur's savior. Who's wheat-field blond hair he recognized immediately.

"You be sure to commit this to memory, and to spread the word, you assholes; you touch Arthur again and I'll make sure you and any who tease him will be rotting away in Juvenile Detention for the rest of your fucking lives. Ya got me?" Arthur stared at Alfred, absolutely staggered. The hamburger loving, extremely loudmouthed, annoying country that stood above Arthur defensively, wasn't smiling that trademark of his. His face was completely free of any emotion aside from anger; and the tone that lie in his voice was all but joyous.

"Alfred…" Arthur muttered, his eyes wide in a slight sense of fear. The island nation's ex-colony's sheer anger was palpable. Students passing by the scene had stopped to observe, their faces' noticeably reading awe.

"Get out of my sight you fucking bastards." And that had been enough said that sent the gang of juveniles scurrying away like field mice from a predator. Alfred huffed in annoyance before actually remembering the other that he was defending. Looking over, a farcical, yet reassuring grin presented on his face, Alfred put a hand on Arthur's head and ruffled the messy blond hair. "Hey Iggy, you okay? You didn't get too badly bruised up by them didja'?"

A speechless stare was the reply from Arthur. Was he dreaming? Did Alfred just _defend_ him? A strange feeling of happiness pervaded the elder's soul. Arthur, one who had been an almighty empire, had been rescued by a former colony, and felt so overjoyed by the fact he _had_ been rescued. This was a strange day after all… "Alfred… why did you…?" Arthur could only manage out, the shocked staring at the American never ceased for a second. He caught the pink of blush on Alfred's cheeks before he recalled his hand atop Arthur's head, stepped back and looked away sheepishly.

"I saw the commotion on my way down to my next class so… A hero never lets a fight go unstopped!" He tried to smile that brilliant, idiotic smile that warmed Arthur's heart and that brought a little blush to his cheeks, but even a "hero" like America couldn't lie without showing so. And what Arthur believed to have been Alfred actually reading the atmosphere for once, the American's beautiful sky blue eyes stared into the Briton's emerald green. "You read the letter… so uh…" he hesitated only a mere second before slipping off his beloved bomber jacket, and draping it around Arthur's shoulders. "You can wear it." Alfred smiled whole-heartedly, "Just so you know that I'm here for you, got it? Just don't lose it."

Before Arthur could reply, the obnoxious, abomination of a period bell rang and the students watching quickly dashed off to their classrooms before they were marked late. Alfred turned, looking back over his shoulder, "I gotta go to some computer class! Don't wanna be late on my first day, right?" he winked, and darted off down the hall.

…

_What the bloody hell just happened?_

* * *

**FINALLYYYYYYYY~ *collapses from exhaustion* I apologize for the long wait! I've been held up with crap from school, and lots of things happening in my world, so you guys have to forgive me.**

**I got a question about the name of the school. In all honesty, I just came up with it off the top of my head. ^^;**

**Alfred gets scaaaryyy~ OwO**

**And a BIG thank you to oneesan! (You know who you are!) YOU ROCK SOCKS. (And you know for what reason ;D)**

**Awesomesauce people rate and review. Are YOU awesomesauce?**


	8. The Bomber Jacket PLUS HIATUS NOTE

**-DO NOT SKIP THIS AUTHOR'S NOTE-**

**A/N:**

_Okay guys. This is it._

_I know I've kept you waiting for so long, and here I am and I haven't finished the chapter. You can shoot me- /shot by many chapter-hungry readers._

_Look, I know there's not logical excuse that can get me outta this one, so I'll just say it straight: I"M A PROCRASTINATOR. (And I also am working on about 5 fanfictions at once here.) _

_So I'm posting up what I have written of the chapter and will put your devious little minds to work and create your own continuations to the story. _

_I WANT TO HEAR YOUR IDEAS ABOUT THE REST OF THE STORY SO PLEASE DON'T HESITATE TO SEND ME A PM OR REVIEW WITH YOUR THOUGHTS._

_After this, the story will be on hiatus. I don't know how long it will be, but when I do update, I will just reupload this chapter without the little author's notes and whatnot. _

_I'm sorry for being a disappointment, everyone D: I know how much this story was loved. I just have no idea where to go with it right now. (Shouldn't I have planned that out when I started it? Stupid self! *slaps self* ...no I'm not a wee bit crazy, what are you talking about?)_

_Well, enjoy what I have here. _

_(Oh, and the scene at the end was inspired by an actual event that happened to my oneesan; she was walking by her brothers' room when she heard the exact dialogue I have here. She still has no idea what they were actually talking about, and doesn't want to know. Just saying xD)_

* * *

And so Arthur stood in the hallway, holding his wounded side (of which a rib was most likely broken), and Alfred's warm bomber jacket draped over his shoulders. It smelt of mint, hamburgers, and something else the Briton couldn't identify. It was a moment of shock, in all honesty. Now he knew what the letter meant…

_Hey iggy! I…I... Crap. I don't know what to write... I guess what I'm trying to say is that... I really like you.. and..._

_I REALLY suck at this... Why can't you see that I'm only everything you want? Yes, I'm resorting to lyrics. Deal with it. I don't mean to talk so tough, I just wanna be loved. And you always ignore me and get mad at me for the stupidest things, but its cute. What am I supposed to do when the best part of me was always you_

_What am I supposed to say when I'm all choked up and you're ok... i love you?_

It all made sense. But… why would he write this all in a letter? It wasn't like the git to do so. Normally he would spit it out in a quick line, usually including something about being a "hero" or hamburgers or some other typical Alfred thing in there along with the jumble. But this whole thought process was one for a later time, right now, Arthur was late for his next period. Again. So he slowly walked to the nurse's office, where he did receive a few odd stares, and sat there to contemplate his thoughts and his feelings that had been thrown into a blender instead of going to his next class.

* * *

"Geez Iggy! What took you so long!" Alfred called as Arthur made his way through the major crowd of students pushing to get out through the glass doors that were labeled a "walker exit". With busted lip bandaged, and bruises he had obtained now tended to, Arthur approached Alfred only to avoid eye contact and his cheeks flaming a stinging red. He gripped the cuffs of the abnormally large bomber jacket, which he wore ever since it was draped around his shoulders. Though he was burning hot in such, the Brit refused to remove the article of clothing. "Well never mind about that! Mattie's probably waiting for us!" Al chirped, taking Arthur by the wrist and dragging him to the exit. He flashed the two passes to leave and did just that.

The sky was blue, opposed to the grey clouds from earlier, and aside from the dark, looming clouds to the far left of the sky, the day seemed beautiful. The air was rich with the smells of autumn, the birds sang over the voices of at least three or four dozen teenagers. There were cars parked in the lot with parents waiting inside. Other adults dotted the sidewalk, also waiting for their children. Out of them all, Arthur couldn't spot a certain Canadian.

"Where is your brother anyway?" Arthur said, squirming out of Alfred's grip and throwing an inquiring stare towards him. It was _his_ brother after all.

"Uhh… who- I mean," he coughed as to clear his throat, catching himself, "I dunno. He said he'd text me, but I haven't gotten anything from him yet."

_Lovely, _Arthur thought irately. If he had to walk about 12 miles home because Matthew had forgotten them, oh, he was going to be quite angered. A tap on the shoulder soon released the Brit from his spacey world of the worst scenario, and a turn of the head revealed that it was one of the girls he and Alfred had seen when they were at the mall with... Poland. Arthur restrained himself from shuddering in terror.

"Uhm, hey," The girl said, glancing up at Arthur's face every other few seconds, "I saw you at the mall the other day."

"And I you," Arthur replied. He had a growing feeling this girl was going to do something Arthur wouldn't quite care for. He glanced over his shoulder to Alfred, for, which he would later mentally shoot himself for, a "hero". Alfred only snickered teasingly.

"Do you wanna hang Friday? It's a half day of school, so we could go right to Margherita's afterwards," She smiled shyly.

"Don't mind my asking, but what's a 'Margherita's'?" He used finger quotations for an emphasized effect.

The girl's eyes widened in disbelief, "You don't know Margherita's? It's like, the _best_ pizzeria in town!"

"Yeah, Artie! You don't know Margherita's?" Alfred grinned. His word wasn't needed in this conversation, and Arthur scowled angrily in his direction.

He recalled that today was Wednesday, and that with the coming Friday, he would get his much needed flight home to reverse all this magic mishap. He didn't want to hurt the girl's feelings, but Arthur didn't want to form any unneeded bonds. They wouldn't be staying at this school for long anyway... "Err... I can't. Sorry. I have to catch an early flight Friday."

The girl, whose name was Nicole, stared down sadly at her feet, "Oh, okay then. When will you be back? Do you think we could get together then?" She looked up again to Arthur's face, hope radiating in her eyes.

"I won't..." He had to come back for a small meeting with the UN in a few weeks, why not come back and stay until then? A weekend at home could surely straighten all this out, "...Monday. I'll be back Monday."

* * *

"COUCH~!" Alfred shouted before plopping down on the plush leather couch, "Oh sweet couch, I've missed you~" He caressed the arm of the chair lovingly, while Arthur just gave him a stare reading "What the bloody fuck?".

"I think the poor lad has gone mental," Arthur muttered to Matthew, who nodded awkwardly.

"No... He's always been like that... I think."

Arthur dropped his backpack by the door, too tired to carry it much longer. "Is anyone hungry?" he asked before taking his shoes off as well and walking into the rather American-style kitchen. _I will never understand that boy's taste in decour..._ "I'll make some dinn-"

Before he could finish his words, Alfred (and some other guy- oh right, that's Matthew) rushed into the kitchen screaming "NOOO!" and shoved the Brit out of said cooking area.

"Sorry Iggy! I had bad enough food today at lunch! I don't want any more today!"

"But it was hamburgers for lunch, you moron!"

"And they were the grossest things I've ever eaten!"

Matthew sighed at the bickering.

The Canadian had taken up the role of cook for that night's dinner, whipping up some hot and fluffy (and don't forget delicious!) pancakes. Arthur and Alfred surprisingly didn't bicker as much as normal that evening, which struck Matthew as odd. What had happened that they didn't mention?

The three talked about the day, avoiding the topics of their 'substitutes' as well as Arthur's attack. Matt questioned why Arthur was wearing his brother's bomber jacket, which Arthur feverishly replied to with a blush and an excuse of "I was cold and the git gave me his jacket." This spawned the question of why he was still wearing it, which made the Brit blush red like a tomato, and storm off from the table with no verbal response.

After the very –entertaining– dinner, the two teens were sent off to do the homework they received for that night.

Occupying Alfred's bedroom, Arthur sat on the floor while the other was lying on his bed. The American was free from all the science homework for the rest of the unit, considering he had completed the test with a straight A, while Arthur was stuck on bookwork. Other work included analyzing lines from the _Merchant of Venice_, as well as homework for Algebra. Gilbert had tried to assign the class work, but it nearly came to be a 1,000 word essay on "how awesome the History substitute was". A student complained, and later the assignment was cancelled.

"I hate Shakespeare!" Alfred complained, letting his head fall face-first into his _Merchant of Venice _book, "even the word 'book' bores me! Unless it's a comic book! Then it's okay!"

"Oh shush. If you need help, you should have just asked me," Arthur replied, not looking up from his science book. "Have you forgotten who knew Shakespeare personally?"

Alfred only groaned.

The Brit rolled his eyes before leaning over to pick up his book to move to his lap, yelping in pain in the process. He held his side, having forgotten about the rib or two he probably broke. Apparently they must not have healed yet.

Alfred jumped at the sudden noise, nearly falling off the bed. "Hey! You okay?"

Arthur nodded, looking up, "Yeah, I think so. Ribs probably haven't healed yet," He lifted up his shirt, exposing a large, unappealing purple bruise on the skin above his ribs. Alfred looked as if he was going to hurl at the sight.

Now, at this time, Matthew just so happened to be coming upstairs to check on the boys, stopping outside his brother's bedroom while unintentionally overhearing the conversation that was going on:

"Hey! Dude that's gross! Put that away!"

"What? You asked!"

"Not about that! Put it away!"

The Canadian kept quiet and only walked away. What they were doing in there he could only imagine; and he really did _not_ want to imagine.

* * *

_**-THIS CHAPTER UNFINISHED AND THE STORY IS ON HIATUS-**_

Sorry once again, but the story will come off of hiatus eventually, and when it does, I promise I'll try not to dissapoint!

Cheers for now,

Midori Hara


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